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Why Couldn't it Start With Hello? - chapter 3?

Then next day was one of the worst Ron had ever experienced. It was right up there with all the times he knew Harry was in peril but he couldn't do anything, it was right up there when he was ostracized from his home. First of all, the git Malfoy decided it was the perfect time to show his slimy face. Ron knew that he was being unreasonable. But Malfoy always brought that out in him, even after years of not hearing of the boy. And the previous night hadn't ended well at all- the girl had run crying, screaming "You fag! YOU FUCKING FAG!" into the night as she readjusted her bosom. Ron hoped the girl would calm down, and not tell anyone. It wasn't that he agreed to the accusation that he was gay, no one in his right mind would do that. It was his silence at the question posed that turned her against him.

But Ron had checked the schedule, and he was decently sure she wasn't to work for a week or so. Ron hoped she would be sane and pleasant by then. But just as he started to look on the brighter side, as soon as he started to have hope, Malfoy walked into to HIS bar, cool as you please, cold eyes darting over the counter, searching for a speck of dust, a smudge, anything to berate the barkeep with. When he didn't find anything, but looked up and met Ron's fuming eyes, a cruel grin spread across that sharp face so slowly it was like ice was melting and leaving a cold crevice behind.

Ron just hoped Malfoy would get a beer. He could feign like Malfoy was drunk, trip him or something, then lead him outside and beat the living snot out of the prick. Just as the sparks flying from Ron's eyes to Draco's were actually visible and the tension met a fevered pitch, the owner stepped in and took Ron to his office. Ron signaled a waiter over to take control, and walked away with a straight a back as possible. I'm going to leave nothing for Malfoy to perceive as weakness.

As soon as they got to the owner's office, Ron had relaxed. No Malfoy in sight meant things were looking up. It may have been a good thing Ron saw that prat's ugly mug; it really put things into perspective. As the owner asked Ron to take a seat in an unmistakable grave tone, Ron wondered how he could wipe that smug smirk off Malfoy's face for good. Maybe the old fashioned way, like with a 2 x 4 with nails protruding at the end. But where could he get one of those at such short notice…

The owner cleared his throat, pushed his glass up higher on the bridge of his nose, folded his hands, anything to get Ron's attention. When no physical movement worked, he resorted to what he had been dreading-

"Ronald. You know we love you here. The staff loves you, the customers love you, it's great." Ron smiled back, an offhand grin that meant nothing. "Thanks. I'm really glad it's working out so well, you know?"

"That's the thing Ron. It may not be working so well." As Ron gaped at what was said, the owner continued, voice growing higher and higher, "One of our other staff members said she left her purse here last night. She came back to get it, and she saw you doing…unmentionable things behind the bar."

"Oh," Ron answered, relieved. "No, that wasn't my fault. Another girl, I don't know her name, came by and completely forced herself on me. We didn't do anything, I swear. I put a stop to it right off the bat, as soon as she started kissing." The owner sighed, took off his glasses, and rubbed his tired, stinging eyes. He really hated to do this, but there was no choice… "That would have been fine, Ron. But don't lie to me. This girl says she saw you performing lewd acts…with another man."

Ron's jaw dropped. His eyes widened, and his heart started thumping. His mother's words, "It's such a horrible way of life to choose, Ron…" floated through the mist in his brain, and he felt like crying. He knew where this was going to lead. No matter what he said, no matter what he did, if he pulled a girl in a fucked her right on the table, the accusation would have been said. Everything had been set into motion. Ron still tried. Gasping, laughing, screaming at the same time, he yelled, "What! That's impossible! I would never- you can't believe- that's bullsh-"

The owner waved a hand and quieted Ron. "I can't have this, Ron. And for a while, we've been a little worried about you; I'm going to admit it. Oh, you flirted, but you never dated. There was never any talk of a girlfriend or someone special. But any way you look at it, we're going to have to let you go. Immediately." He got up from behind his desk, walking away to let Ron compose himself. Before he shut the door, he said to what might as well have been an empty room, "Oh, and move out by Friday." It was Thursday. But all Ron could think about were the lies. He hadn't had sex, he'd never even had sex, never even had a boyfriend. And no one had worried about him. They all thought he was some great playboy with the ladies, and he let them think that. There was never any worry on their part. He made a fist until his nails cut into his palms and he started bleeding. Staring at the blood, slowly creeping up his nails and tingeing his skin, Ron almost wished he were crying.

Draco had gone through a range of emotions that day as well. First, he was angry he woke up earlier than he usually did. It was no secret Draco was a night owl, and whenever he found himself awake before 1 in the afternoon he was a bit crabby. But he woke up for a good reason, which strengthened his resolve. And having a challenge in front of him always brought out a slightly wicked side of the Malfoy. And today's job was one of Draco's favorites- finding another handsome gay man to work for, and possibly under, him. Waking up in the bleak eleven o'clock sunshine, Draco could remember licking his lips, straightening his back, and giving a luscious wink to the man he found in his bed. He leaned in for a kiss, preparing to be exceptionally sensual today. The brown haired man smiled through the kiss, and when they broke apart a few seconds later, Draco whispered in his ear, "Be out of my bed and room before I return." Taking almost as much pleasure from the hurt, pained look on the young wizard's face as he did during their night of sex, Draco sauntered into the adjoining bathroom. When he returned, feeling fresh and even more sexual (if that was possible, of course) he was pleased to see no traces of the man around. The bed was made, there weren't any hairs or traces of semen around his room, everything looked as if he had spent a quiet night by himself.

The short walk to the Hogsmeade Inn was the perfect time for Draco to clear his head of old sex and replace it with thoughts of what could happen. A year or so ago, Draco had opened the first gay bar in Hogsmeade. Of course, no straight witches or wizards knew about it, but word traveled fast through the gay market. And there was an aura around the decimated farmhouse in the middle of nowhere that screamed to those passing by. Of course, the outside was the only thing that looked decimated at all. Inside was a pounding, living, breathing, gyrating bar. But for a few months now, Draco had lost a few customers to the Hogsmeade Inn, which should have been unheard of. Draco's bar was the only place he knew of that gave a sense of comfort and sensuality to the people who felt misplaced and judged by society. There was no reason for gay wizards to go to a straight edge pub with nothing to offer them but mediocre food and cheap beer. But he had heard, on several accounts, that the reason for the Inn's sudden popularity in the gay community was a new bartender.

Erin, one of Draco's best customers, had told him in confidence, "It's this bloke they hired for their bar. It's not like he's a raging homo, you know, like me or-" He was cut off by a sharp glare. No one told Draco Malfoy he was a raging anything. "Right, me or the other guys in here. But he's very good looking, you know. A good flirt too, thought he only does it with the girls. But you can tell his hearts not in it. And a few of the guys have sworn that the bloke has been checking them out when he thinks no one is looking. But there's no real evidence pointing to his being gay. I think that might be it. He's a mystery, a sexy, hot mystery." Erin sighed and looked out the window, just past Draco's ear. "I would love to feel him on top of me…"

As Draco approached the door to the Inn, he mentally checked his plans. "Right, find out if he's as good looking as they all say. If he's acceptable, figure out if he's gay. If he is, give him the job. If he isn't, turn him gay, then give him the job. If he's exceptional-" Draco tossed his hair, straightened his back, and put on his best seductive smile, "Make him my plaything." So of course when he did get to the bar, he was taken aback to see the youngest Weasley boy working.

This didn't please him at all. The bartender that everyone had been talking about, the guy that had Draco's bar abuzz with gossip was obviously not working. Draco would have to stand by and wait. Sitting down, making sure the bar was something he would allow his hands to touch, he looked up and saw Ron's enraged face.

Oh, happiness was. If he couldn't get laid, the next best way to pass Draco's time was to piss someone off. He stared back, letting a slow smile to creep over his face, one he had perfected over years of tormenting people who didn't even deserve to be looked at, didn't deserve to be scraped off the bottom of his shoe. Draco felt the familiar happiness settle into his blood as he and Ron fought with their eyes, as the air around them got hotter and hotter with Ron's anger. Draco had forgotten how absolutely fun it was to enrage Ron, how entertaining it was to watch that already ruddy skin redden, to watch his fists clench and unclench, to push Ron without even saying anything. Draco was sorely disappointed when the owner called Ron away before he had thrown something at Draco. Deciding he would come back at a later time, when the good looking one showed up for work, Draco breezed out of the bar. He didn't notice the stares of the customers; he was so used to them. But the patrons weren't staring at him because he was a Malfoy, or just because he was good looking (most of them, anyway,) but they were staring because Ron was always so calm, so happy, so nice. Somehow that man had flipped a switch inside Ron and the whole Inn felt it. Everyone was abuzz with excitement, wondering who that man was.

When Ron walked out, they all calmed down. They wanted to see what would happen, wanted to see if Ron would punch something now that the man was gone, or dance because of it. But Ron took the sudden drop-off of chatter to mean they were all talking about him, talking about his predicament, talking about his apparently being gay, and he stormed out, never wanting to set foot into the only thing that had given him happiness over the past months ever again. He walked, he ran, he fled from everything as fast as he could. And when he found a dark alley with no one looking at him, no one pitying him, he collapsed and cried until he was dry. He choked, he sobbed, he had snot dripping down his nose, tears streaming down his face, his lips chapping from all the salt. When he couldn't cry tears anymore he still tried, let the convulsions take over his body. Wrapping his arms around his knees, Ron cradled himself like he wished his mother would, even though he was an adult, even though he was alone, even though he was gay. He wanted to go home and be told everything would be all better, Ron wanted that kiss on the forehead and quick hug. But he was as likely to get that as he was to sprout wings and fly, to suddenly become Harry, to suddenly become happy. So he cried some more, cried until he fell asleep underneath a cardboard box.